


Just everyday things

by Clara_Jimmy



Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works & Related Fandoms, The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Angband, Angst, Beleriand, Darkening of Valinor, F/M, Family, First Age, Fluff, Helcaraxë, Middle Earth, Not Compliant With Laws and Customs Among the Eldar, Quenya Names, Rivendell | Imladris, Siblings, Slice of Life, Third Age, Valinor, War of Wrath, Years of the Trees
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-07
Updated: 2021-03-06
Packaged: 2021-03-08 21:14:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 8,887
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27433384
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Clara_Jimmy/pseuds/Clara_Jimmy
Summary: Just things that happen to you on daily bases… meeting with family and friends, composing your next symphony, getting cursed by the Vala of Death... You know, everyday things.
Relationships: Fëanor | Curufinwë/Nerdanel
Comments: 4
Kudos: 7





	1. General notes

**Author's Note:**

> A collection of more or less random/connected short stories from my AU.  
> It´s difficult to decide what to post because I´ve changed this AU many times and also because I haven’t touched this work in about 2 years.  
> This collection means a lot to me; I used to almost live in it a few years ago, writing bits and pieces of it nearly every day. It would be a shame if it just died on my hard drive.  
> I´ll just post fics in here whenever I feel like it.

I think some notes are needed – the timeline, original characters, locations etc.

 **Time**  
In Valinor I am intentionally refraining from mentioning any specific periods of time that would be expressed in numbers because years, weeks and days are often counted in Sun years, but in the pre-Darkening Valinor they would be using the Tree years, a concept than could be confusing for some readers.  
If I have to, then: 1 Tree year ≈ 10 Sun years.

 **Timeline**  
I´ll update it the more I post. 

**Names**  
When they are supposed to speak in Quenya/Sindarin I am using the Quenya/Sindarin names for people, places etc. Also, I like using “c” instead of “k”. The names for my OCs are usually from https://realelvish.net/, some just from a dictionary. 

**Relationships**  
I don’t adhere to the LACE, because fuck the LACE (literally)! There are mostly canonical couples. Non-canonical only if they don’t interfere too much with other couples.

 **Fanons**  
It´s worth mentioning that I want to subvert some of the fanons/stereotypes I have seen in the fandom. Those that I just don’t feel like right now, those that I fucking hate or those that I want to fuck with because they´re literally everywhere!


	2. Original characters and their locations

**Aman/Valinor/Eldamar**  
**Tirion**  
Inwisto – a gardener at Mahtan´s palace, a Noldo  
Erintyalë – Nerdanel´s mother, a Noldë

 **Endórë/Ennor/Middle-earth**  
**Valariandë/Beleriand**  
**East**  
**Estolad**  
Varnaquen – Telufinwë´s betrothed, a Noldo  
Sidh – Pityafinwë´s friend, one of the Nandor  
Laegon – Pityafinwë´s friend, one of the Nandor

 **West**  
**Fëanor and his sons at Lake Mistaringë/Mithrim**  
Alastion – a scout, a Noldo

**North**  
**In or near Angband/Angamando**  
Orchalon – a slave, a Sinda 


	3. List of stories/chapters

Some of the chapters are stand-alone pieces, some have more continuity.  
The order is not chronological, I just publish them as I write/edit them.  
Rating varies form fic to fic, but I´d say it´s usually gen or teen, I´ll warn you if anything extreme happens! 

**Chapter 4 – An unusual sight**  
Summary: One elf witnesses an exceptional drama. Or: Fëanáro realises he is in love. All he has to do now is act. And climb a wall.

**Chapter 5 – Winter´s end, early spring, part 1**  
Summary: Pityafinwë/Pityo and his brothers venture into the late winter early spring forest.

**Chapter 6 – Here and there**  
Summary: Elu Thingol and Círdan think about Middle-earth and Valinor. During the Years of the Trees/Dark in Beleriand.

**Chapter 7 – Hidden in plain sight**  
Summary: Fëanor talks with Melkor.

**Chapter 8 - Captured**  
Summary: A poor Sindarin elf is captured and brought before Morgoth.

**Chapter 9 - A quiet moment for poor Glorfindel**  
Summary: Glorfindel is being a slightly annoyed babysitter.

**Chapter 10 - The famous fight (featuring not Glorfindel and not the balrog)**  
Summary: Elladan and Elrohir are roleplaying Glorfindel and the balrog.

**Chapter 11 - The end of rest, things are about to change**  
Summary: The rest of the Noldor are arriving, Curufinwë finds out.

**Chapter 12 - The gamble**  
Summary: Nolofinwë tries to decide whether to go north.

**Chapter 13 - What path will we take?**  
Summary: Nolofinwë and Turucáno have a decision to make in Araman.

**Chapter 14 - Deep in thought (featuring dark, ice and wind)**  
Summary: Findecáno and Nolofinwë during the crossing of the Helcaraxë.


	4. An unusual sight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> One elf witnesses an exceptional drama. Or: Fëanáro realises he is in love. All he has to do now is act. And climb a wall.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OCs:  
> Inwisto (meaning changeable mood: inwist + o) – a gardener at Mahtan´s palace, a Noldo  
> Erintyalë (meaning alone imagination: er + intyalë) – Nerdanel´s mother, a Noldë

“Oh, damn it!”

He immediately began to walk over there, rounded the corner of the house, yet there was no one in sight. Inwisto surveyed the area, frowning a little. Only the bushes by the wall seemed to be somewhat disturbed and ruffled and in the next second the leaves and branches moved, shaking, and a noise came for there. Someone was in the bushes and he just groaned and cursed. That´s it! An intruder! How indecent and shameful!

“Whoever is there, you have no business being here! Get out of there right now!” Inwisto ordered, still keeping his voice low as not to awake anyone. A head appeared amidst the leaves and blossoms, belonging to a young elf that looked surprised and, weirdly, offended. You have no right to feel offended, you scoundrel, Inwisto thought and marched towards him. The unknown boy narrowed his eyes and then proceeded to glare at him and Inwisto had to admit it was very unpleasant. There was something in his bright eyes that made him feel nervous and uneasy. It got even worse when the youth stood up as he turned out to be more that a head taller. Nut he has dirty and his hair was rugged and a branch with a leaf was sticking from it. So. That gave Inwisto courage again.

“Who do you think you are?!” he asked at last, “and what are you doing here! You have no business here, leave before I call the lord of the house!” he thought that would do it, but something even more unkind flickered in the boy´s eyes as he regarded him, then he fixed his posture and stood even taller.

“I am called Fëanáro Curufinwë,” he answered proudly, “and I happen to be the crown prince. And if you excuse me, I have every right to be here.” He turned away from Inwisto and looked up towards the window.

“Nerdanel! Nerdanel!” he shouted loudly.

Inwisto stood as if his shoes were nailed to the ground. Shocked and confused, he didn’t know what to think or do. This was prince Fëanáro??!! What could Inwisto do? It wasn’t his place to order the prince. He couldn’t send him away and he couldn’t talk back at him. Of course, if the prince wished to be in the garden at such a late hour and roll around in the rose bushes, he should. But no, no, no! Inwisto blinked rapidly. No! This simply wasn’t possible. This couldn’t be the prince! Sure, they said he was weird, entitled, but… It was just some rude boy who knew how to lie.

The intruder continued to act suspiciously. Now he was inspecting the wall, but then raised his head and stared at the window high above them.

“Hey! Stop!” Inwisto exclaimed, “I´m not finished with you, whoever you are! You´re going to pay for ruining that poor hibiscus!!” Inwisto began waving his gardening scissors. 

“Nerdanel, I love you!” the boy suddenly shouted and Inwisto froze in horror. He definitely needed to call lord Mahtan and get this boy off the grounds.

“I love you with all my heart! Nerdanel, dearest, I have come her to confess what I feel towards you! Hear me out, love! I have been tormented for the past months, you are my dearest friend and I think the world of you. I fell in love with you, I do not even know how, but I realized that I would never feel anything so strong and true towards anyone else and I can clearly say that my heart, my spirit, my entire life, everything that I have belongs to you now! Nerdanel! I love you! You are my whole world, I -”

“Fëanáro, what?!”

“I love you!”

“I can hear you, but – what the? What is going on, no don’t climb the wall-“

“I am climbing up! I have to know your answer.”

“I´ll give you my answer, but stay with your feet on the ground, you fool! You might fall down again. Is that a twig in your hair?”

Inwisto watched all of it in shock, unable to move or speak.

The boy, probably actually prince Fëanáro, Inwisto was starting to accept, was hanging from the wall, already at the level of the second floor, looking up to where lady Nerdanel was leaning out of the window.

“What is the answer?” he shouted and resumed the ascend. When he was nearly at his destination, lady Nerdanel offered him a hand and pulled him up and through the window. And then there was quiet for a moment longer that what the Inwisto considered appropriate.

The door to the porch suddenly opened. Inwisto exclaimed found himself staring at lord Mahtan and lady Erintyalë like a fool. Lord Mahtan raised his hands in a silent question and when there was no reply, he actually asked.

“What is happening here?! Who was here just now declaring his love for Nerdanel?” He expected answers, but Inwisto´s mind was nor working properly. Then Lady Erintyalë came on to the porch and looked around the quiet silver garden.

“And where is he now? We heard someone fall, into the rose bushes I think,” she said and Mahtan nodded.

“Well, um…,” Inwisto stammered and his eyes shifted away, awkward, searching for an explanation, “he is, that is… he is upstairs, he… he climbed up there… said something about the High Prince! I think. He fell into the roses and then proceeded to… well, you heard, um…”

“Ah, that must be young Fëanáro,” lady Erintyalë said, nodding and smiling. They all gathered on the porch and gazed up.

“Nerdanel? Fëanáro? By the hammer of Aulë, what is going on?” Mahtan called up. And after another rather long pause the two reappeared in the window, both grinning and nearly shinning with happiness.

“We are engaged!” the boy, or prince, shouted, holding up their linked hands, and lady Nerdanel laughed. It took a long while for Inwisto to breathe again. He decided to go back to the roses and the hibiscus, the plants he loved and understood and which needed his care. Maybe he should also hand in his notice and work in a different household...


	5. Winter´s end, early spring, part 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pityafinwë/Pityo and his brothers venture into the late winter early spring forest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Coirë (s. Echuir) – Stirring, it´s not a month it has 54 days (11 February – 4 April)  
> Mettarë – Last Day, 1, 5 April  
> Last Day of Coirë – a feast is held
> 
> OCs:  
> Varnaquen (meaning protected/secure person: varna + quen) – Telvo´s betrothed, a Noldo  
> Sidh (meaning peace: sîdh) – Pityafinwë´s friend, one of the Nandor of Estolad  
> Laegon (meaning green male: laeg + on) – Pityafinwë´s friend, one of the Nandor of Estolad

“We could have been drinking mulled wine right now,” Curufinwë proclaimed sourly, “instead I am expected to supply the pantry of Himring. I haven’t heard anything more absurd in my entire long life, and I have lived with all of you.”

“Oh, shut up, already,” Carnistir retorted, “you think too much, your head´s going to overheat from it.”

“You don’t think enough.”

“You think like a stupid person.”

“Absurd…,” Curufinwë scoffed, rolling his eyes in his brother´s direction, and taking care to avoid the coiling roots on the ground, “stupid people do not think, that´s why they are called stupid.”

“Everything I am hearing now is absurd… so stop saying that word…,” Macaluarë mumbled, not even sparing his brothers a look.

Pityo adjusted the arrow between his fingers, stepped over an old fallen tree, and continued on his way. He half wished they would have a real fight and be done with the damned bickering and have some peace. To his great surprise, Macaluarë haven’t been helpful at all. Even if normally his mood could swing from left to right, he had always been happy when they were together. Or not always happy, but had always tried to keep them as a team and soothe potential issues. But he was clearly bored now and thought this whole trip was a waste of his time. He had said in his letters he had wanted to focus on actively running his realm and win the war soon, but Pityo had still hoped Macalaurë would be more cooperative when they actually met in the spring. Guess not. Macalaurë almost hadn’t shown up and they had to wait three days for him. Damn you, Cáno, like they needed this fucking attitude, Pityo cursed in his mind. Macalaurë thought he would be more useful in the castle, managing all the affairs. That may be true, but Pityo had decided they would spend more time together during the middle days of Coirë, so fuck Macalaurë.

“Many types of stupidity, my younger brother,” Carnistir replied. His cheeks were red from the cold, but he was smiling. “You´re blind to everything around here. How can you not see how serene the forest is? Just look around you fool and feel it.”

Well, his more difficult brother seemed to like this outing. Carnistir was a gamble. He had never cared much about hunting or nature or even spending time with all of them at once, but now he seemed strangely calm and enamoured by the late winter forest. He had arrived on Himring already in a good mood. Targelion must be faring more than fine, Pityo thought. Or maybe his brother was glad to escape those lands or find a chance to clear his head of all the fighting and trade business. He didn’t know what exactly had been happening with Carnistir and of course, none of them would find out until Carnistir decided to let them know. But whatever reasons he had, Pityo was glad that he at least wasn’t making any problems.

That had been the idea, after all. Just the seven of them. Leaving behind their own lands. Their friends and lovers, captains and advisors. And enemies. Of course in Endorë, one could never leave behind enemies. Maybe temporary disagreements, but not the real obstacles because danger was truly everywhere, sometimes only sleeping and hiding, much like the nature had been during the winter. Pityo had thought it would be a good idea to get away from all of it and disappear somewhere in the wilderness, just him and his brothers. A meeting had been long overdue. Pityo had been waiting for Maitimo or Macalaurë to invite them, but neither of them had been eager to suggest anything. So fuck it, Pityo had thought one day and done it himself.

“Focus on the tracks,” he said now and pointed ahead of them, at the footprints the fox had left in the snow, “we will find the little beast. Test your eyes, try if you can spot it before either of us.”

“I´m not going to play one of your childish games,” Curufinwë replied, but nevertheless he looked ahead with more attention, which made Pityo grin secretly. So fucking predictable. He tried hard not to laugh. Carnistir meanwhile had vanished between the trees and Pityo guessed they would see him later. Pityo understood, only wished his brother would stay longer.

The forest smelled of winter, cold and crisp, but of the upcoming spring as well, of ground and slowly growing grass. No flowers blooming yet. Only the evergreens gave the nature any bright colour. The rest of the trees stood bare and dark, still carrying the appearance of winter. Most of the ground was covered with snow, thick in some places, and his boots would sink into it, elsewhere the ground was lightly dusted with morning snow. But it was melting. The temperature had been rising slowly and steadily over the past weeks and when Pityo took a step he could hear the snow turning into slush.

It was the middle of Coirë and they were already preparing for the festival that would mark the start of spring. Pityo was looking forward to the last day of Coirë as he adored this time of year. The world was waking up, everything was growing, changing, and the air smelled differently. Fresh. Together with summer, it was his favourite season and had never failed to lift his mood. And the feast was fun too.

Pityo looked around again, counting Curvo, Cáno and Telvo, and then took a deep breath of the fresh air. He felt calm. He loved spending time with nature, plants and animals, and he especially loved the wild forests and plains of Endorë. And he liked to hunt. Some of his Nandorin friends back home would disagree. Sidh would tell him it wasn’t nice to hunt other living creatures and Laegon would point out it wasn’t smart to do it before spring. Pityo and Telvo hadn’t seen all of their brothers together for quite a while. It would benefit them to ditch the political responsibilities for a day or two and just be, Pityo though. Like they didn’t have enough worries. He didn’t even want to think of what they had sworn, of their mission or plan or whatever you could call it. But he knew it was crucial that they stick together. Against the world, or at least against the enemies in the north.

Pityo kept on walking through the forest, his eyes on guard for any signs of animal activity and on his brothers, making sure they didn’t stray from their course or start fighting. If he was with his regular group, with Telvo or just alone, he would focus on the tracking, but he really didn’t want this get-together turn to fucking shit. He knew that Tyelco was just barely contained, too excited to be in the wilderness again. Something was bothering Curufinwë, and not just the winter break, something coming from a deeply rooted issue. Macalaurë was similar and when that happened, he was unpredictable. Only Telvo, Maitimo and Carnistir were alright.

Pityo didn’t mind that it was still winter. Not like Curvo, who not so subtly complained about the cold and how uncomfortable the forest was. Fuck his bickering, Pityo just wished Curufinwë would tell them what was actually bothering him. No way his mood came from the weather or the hunting. Nowadays he cared mostly about preparing for the war, managing the troops in Himlad, training, making weapons, or trading. But Pityo had no idea what had happened to him now. It could be related to that or perhaps to Telperinquar. Pityo had noticed something heavy lying between his nephew and his brother. Curufinwë had arrived to Himring already rolling his eyes. Hopefully, they could all help him make it right.

Pityo liked the weather. The days were warmer. He liked seeing the fresh dust of snow or the remains of ice on branches and berries, the water dripping down. There were fewer animals to hunt, but the trip had never been about hunting anyways. Pityo just called it “hunting” to fool some of his more difficult brothers.

Together like in the old times. Maybe. In Aman snow had been a rarity, a surprise. They had enjoyed it only when they had travelled to the mountains on the edges of Eldamar. Snow had been a beauty. Like fine pieces crystal, the purest white glittering under the light. Snow had meant fun. They had enjoyed the chill that bit one´s fingers and the sight of thick ice covering the ground and lakes. Pityo recalled being shoved into the snow and falling right through it. He almost had to swim through the snow. And everyone had been laughing. Nothing had worried them...

They could hardly be like that in Endorë. Here, snow was a worry. It meant real winter and more danger. It could get too cold, the roads could become unusable, the rivers and crops could freeze, the livestock might not survive. Sometimes it didn’t matter how much they cared for them. Fuck the winters in Endorë, Pityo sometimes thought. With the spring, the dangers would cease. The days would grow longer and nights shorter and there wouldn’t be as many the orc ambushes.

Pityo hoped this trip could be like the old days. When their family had travelled all over Aman, just enjoying time together. Here in the wilderness they could breathe freely and relax. But Curvo and Cáno were annoyed and Carnistir was wandering somewhere alone.

Their parents had told them to always take care of each other. That gained a new meaning after the Darkness fell. The snow, the winters and the hunting trips in Valariandë were far different from what they had been used to. Endorë had more potential, but was more dangerous. They had to adjust to life in dark Endórë very quickly. In Aman they would still be considered very young. But they had been forced to grow up and appear as lords.

The leaves and needles gave way beneath his boots. Pityo walked slowly, trying not to make a noise, and twiddled the arrow between his fingers. Tried to act like he was searching for any animals.

“I again wonder at your resolve,” Curufinwë said behind him. Pityo could hear him trampling the leaves and kicking the branches. He was sabotaging everything. 

“Three days and barely anything, one would think you could recognize your failure and agree to just go back. My coat is getting damp, see?” Curufinwë said. Pityo turned around, watching him fervently showing the hem to an annoyed Macalaurë.

“And it´s gonna get even worse. Better just leave it here on the ground,” Macalaurë snapped. Curufinwë yanked it out of his hands.

“You´re not helping.”

“Hey, Curvo, look there,” Ambarussa/Telvo whispered and pointed to the left, “another set of footprints, can you see them? Another fox was there.”

“Of course I can see them,” he grumbled, looking that way.

“Maybe a silver fox. You could have the tailor make you a better coat.” At least he would always have Ambarussa by his side, Pityo thought with a smile. His twin had been eager to leave the walls of the fortress and everyone in there. For his own reasons, relating to Varnaquen and their falling relationship. No one else besides Pityo knew about it. He knew that time away from Estolad was doing Ambarussa good as it was an opportunity to fill his mind with something else, but that was only temporal. At home he was always escaping into the wild and in the meantime his problems were growing. But the wilderness always made Ambarussa relaxed and able to forget for a while. He enjoyed hunting as well. Now he has been trying to make their brothers involved in the activity and Pityo was glad for the help.

Pityo heard barking noises, growing louder and louder, and then Huan appeared from behind the trees, sprinting towards them. He almost jumped on him and Pityo petted the dog him while Tyelcormo and Maitimo reached them, his oldest bother holding a pair of white foxes. Huan went to greet the others, barking happily. Cáno a Ambarussa crunched down and Curufinwë made a horrified face, but Huan knew better than to paw at his cloak. Maitimo showed them the catch and Ambarussa whistled.

“Good one,” he said, examining them, “those are definitely the two we have been tracking. And what a clean shot, Maitimo!” Pityo could see the stab wound where the dagger had pierced the animal near its ear. Maitimo grinned at the flattery. Maitimo liked the hunting trip. Well, kind of, Pityo thought. It was a common knowledge that he wasn’t keen on spending more time than necessary in nature, but he appreciated similar get-togethers because they were all together. Even in Valinor he used to be like that, but after his imprisonment he had became even more focused on family. Just as him, his oldest brother wanted to keep them tight and see them getting along. He seemed to be content to just walk or hunt or talk about unimportant things. And he kept an eye on them, that was his second nature by now. He always tried to soothe any possible troubles. Maitimo also he knew he could afford leaving for a few days and his people would take care of his castle and other political and business affairs. The people in Himring were more disciplined than anyone living in any of their other lands. Maitimo had made sure of that.

„I was lucky. And Huan caught the other one,“ he told them, but his expression was almost smug. Everyone knew he was excelled with weapons.

„Huan did so well today,“ Tyelcormo said proudly as he ruffled Huan´s fur, „so well, do you hear me, Huan? But it´s not over, we´ve found some deer tracks.” Maitimo pointed into the distance and then closer to the brook.

“The deer had crossed the stream far away from here,” he said, “so what do you think?”

“We go find it,” Ambarussa said with a nod.

“We have to find that deer, that´s going to be a nice catch. I have the right of the first shot!“ Tyelco yelled and Huan barked. Tyelco and Huan seemed to be enjoying the trip, Pityo noticed without surprise. Tyelco and Curufinwë had been busy fighting off the assaults from the north. But unlike Curufinwë, Tyelco didn’t often take part in politics on his own. He has always had the same love for wild nature and hunting like Pityo and Telvo. So now he was in his true element and didn’t focus on much else. The forest and all of its animals called out to him and while Pityo couldn’t understand their voices, he knew his brother had learnt their languages in Aman. Pityo was glad Tyelco was immersed in what they were officially supposed to be doing and he wasn’t in a bad mood. And he would bet Tyelco knew what has been bothering Curvo. Perhaps he would tell him later...

„Yeah, I want to see that!“ Ambarussa said and slapped Tyelco´s his back and Tyelco immediately put him into a chokehold, laughing. Huan leaped on them as if he could help fighting off Ambarussa. What a fucking mess. Alright, maybe this trip was actually going to be like old times, Pityo thought.

„Let me go, get off,“ his twin was laughing and trying to squirm free. Which he would never succeed so their brother just released him after a minute and slapped him on the shoulder.

Their walk continued for a while until they stopped in front of the brook that they had been loosely following, tracking the animal alongside it. But now it turned sharply to the left. The stream of the little brook was fast. It had almost completely thawed, there were only thin crusts of ice by the banks and the water was eating at them every second. Macalaurë started to quietly hum under his breath. He stepped into the shallow water carelessly and crossed to the other side.

“Come one,” he called at them, adjusting the strap of his quiver over his chest, “better move and find the fox before it gets dark.”

“We should catch something else, I´d rather not eat fox,” Curufinwë declared and them pointed at him and Pityo, “I am not surviving on those blackberries you picked either.” Their current supplies consisted of lembas and some early berries they had picked this morning. Pityo gave him a helpless look. Fuck, he wasn’t his personal chef. Tyelco crossed the stream and Huan leaped right over it and run ahead. Pityo skipped through the brook, feeling light on his feet. Ambarussa/Telvo and Maitimo followed him and after a while Curufinwë did as well. Carnistir appeared out of nowhere a little further down and joined them.

So far it wasn’t bad, Pityo thought as he kept walking and let his eyes fall from his brothers onto the trees and the snow. Whatever underlining issues there were, they would come to the surface. But so far, his brothers weren’t doing that bad. At least on this trip, they seemed to be doing relatively well, together as a family.


	6. Here and there

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Elu Thingol and Círdan think about Middle-earth and Valinor. During the Years of the Trees/Dark in Beleriand.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thingol´s names (in old Quenya?) were Elwë and Sindicollo/Singollo, and later they were translated into Sindarin as Elu and Thingol.  
> Círdan´s old name was Nowë.  
> (And Finwë´s name in Sindarin could just be… *awkward silence*… Fin… *more awkward silence*)  
> Ennor – Middle-earth (in Sindarin)

It was dark, as is always was this side of the Great sea, after all. The city was dead only for several scattered windows that glowed in the darkness and the lamps upon the pillars. The lands that extended behind them lay dark as thick as molasses. The sea was dark, the surface of the water still only for a few solitary waves. All was black and black.  


But above them shone millions of stars, ever the silent companions and guardians since the first days of the Elves.  


And in front of them, there in the utter darkness on the far end of the horizon, could sometimes perhaps be spied a glimpse of something. Something lighter. Elu did not know what exactly his eyes discerned in the distance, but he knew where it came from and what lied there, hidden by the sea and the shadows. He had seen and walked the lands of light once before. He knew of its unparalleled splendours and nearly endless possibilities. But his mind wandered there scarcely ever since he had met Melian in the great forest, an event that had been a clear turning point in his life. Until that meeting he had followed Finwë, his king and best friend, with dedication and without hesitation, but afterwards he had only wanted to stay by Melian´s side. He could feel they were fated to be together. And Ennor had become a much more interesting land.  


Yet Elu knew Círdan thought of Valinor often. All of them had changed since departing their home by the lake, but Círdan was still Nowë, his friend from when they were young. He was still fascinated by the image of Valinor and determined to get there. Even if now his duty also resided in Ennor and in building their ships. If ever there lived an elf who desired to sail there and did not do so, it had to be him.  


“You are free to go there, you know? Nothing holds you on this side except for yourself,” Elu found himself telling his friend now, “you don’t know how much it had warmed my heart when I had found out how many had remained here just for my sake. And you stayed as well.” He glanced at Círdan who was standing still and looking ahead into the darkness. He never spoke much when they were by the sea as it usually kept his attention.  


“You have always been a dear friend to me, Círdan,” Elu said, “I would not keep you here, I see how much you wish to sail west. You have no obligation to me, I hope you know that, and whoever wants to follow you, you are all free to go. My staying in these lands is my decision only, and you know why. I know you wish to join them – my brother, Finwë, Ingwë, and all the others that had left. I know you wish to meet the Valar again.”  


It was only after a long while that Círdan finally turned to him and spoke.  


“I value your words, Elu. But you are my king, not just my friend. And thus, I stay with you. And also... I have a feeling that my fate is strongly tied to this land and will be for many years that are yet to come. That is something the water had revealed to me.”  


If ever there was an elf willing to sacrifice his dreams it was probably Círdan as well, Elu thought. Yet, it seemed he had discovered new motivations that kept him from sailing. He had spoke of the water before, of conversations with the Lord Ulmo himself…  


And so they stood at the quayside and looked over the waters, over the darkness and into the distance that hid the greatest light.


	7. Hidden in plain sight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fëanor talks with Melkor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some cosmology:  
> Eä – the world created by the Valar  
> Arda – our world, like the planet probably  
> Endorë/Endor – Middle-earth (in Quenya)  
> Timeless Halls – nonmaterial “place” “where” Eru is  
> (Outer/Timeless) Void – nonmaterial “place” around Eä

“Some might have forgotten your crimes and the Valar might have forgiven you, but I hope that it is more than unmistakably obvious that _I_ do neither. Not when it comes to _you_ , _Melkor_ ,” Fëanáro spoke, nearly spitting out that false name, “you have declared yourself as the enemy of my people and you should stay that way in my mind until you prove to be different. Which, I have full confidence in saying, will not happen until the Timeless Halls flow away and disperse.”  


“Fëanáro, how can I achieve to change your mind?” the Vala replied after a moment, with a look of helplessness on his false face, “when I think I have already done everything that I could? When will you finally see that I mean no harm? Only to cooperate and share this place that my brothers and sisters have created.”  


Fëanáro narrowed his eyes, thinking he would never look at Melkor in any other way. He was a deceiver. A murderer. No path of return. There was just too much. Too much Fëanáro had learned from the history and the people´s recollections of this _being_ , too much horrible dark appalling things that he had committed, there was too much conviction and too much protesting against the Valar when they had finally assaulted his stronghold in Endorë. He had serious doubts that even all the time in Eä could change Melkor when he has already gone this far, or maybe, when he has harboured such ideas and motivations even since before Eä was created.  


Melkor´s lies sounded like sweet truths and unfortunately many of his people had fallen for them. But Melkor had made the mistake of presuming that Fëanáro would be one of such fools. A crucial misjudgement. Fëanáro has always been very skilled at reading people and nothing that concerned him this personally could possibly escape him. He heard how meticulously crafted his words and expressions were and could see the odd glint in his eyes. If Fëanáro had to end up as the last person in Valinor, Aman or Arda with a sound mind then so be it. He also wondered how long it would take Melkor to stop playing this game, at least with him when there was no one else present. This conversation wouldn’t be their last one.


	8. Captured

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A poor Sindarin elf is captured and brought before Morgoth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bauglir (s.) = what the Sindar called Morgoth  
> Balan (s.) = Vala  
> The other one is Mairon of course ;)
> 
> OCs:  
> Orchalon (meaning superior, lofty one: orchal + on) – some Sindarin elf  
> 

They lead him through long dark corridors, illuminated only by torches on the walls, and they were unmistakably descending lower and lower. The air grew warmer and heavier as they passed and he was no longer putting any real effort into struggling with them. They were going to lead him down there no matter what. But at last they came to a wide room and in front of them he saw a huge gate, several times taller than him, made from iron and decorated with strange twisting images. Inadvertently he shuddered and that woke something in him, fear, but also the defiance and anger from earlier.

Orchalon struggled in his chains and snarled at the orcs, but they only laughed and brought him forward. The gate opened.

He was all but dragged inside, trying to wrestle free and shouting insults and threats. Still, he couldn’t _not_ notice where he was. The hall was vast and kept almost entirely in darkness, safe for braziers lined up near the walls and some bright light coming from the farthest wall, where they were heading. The air was almost impossibly hot and oppressing and he struggled to breathe. The orcs were quiet now and only his protests and their boots echoed round the place.

As they neared the front of the hall the light got stronger and he saw steps, podium and then a throne. And on that black throne… Orchalon felt his blood freeze and heart stop. He stopped walking. That earned his a shove and he was dragged on even more forcibly. He couldn’t stop staring.

That was _him_. _Bauglir_. Their tormenter, the powerful shadow that wanted to destroy all of them and everything they had. And those must be the three stolen jewels, the source of that fierce light, set into a crown on top of _his_ head. The fallen Balan was a living horror. All black, only for his unnaturally pale skin, and the eyes that looked at him that shone with a strange light that held him captive in an agony.

“You kneel before the King of the World!” Here was a voice and he felt someone kicking his calves. He fell on to the floor, catching himself on one hand. There were footsteps and someone yanked his collar, so now he was kneeling before the throne and before _him_.

“Didn’t you hear me? Show some respect!” the voice said again. Orchalon looked up to see another being, also completely black, with a terrible face, and his eyes were gold and bore into him, sharp as knives. The orcs were leaving and now he was alone with the two of them. More than hesitant this time, he turned his head to the throne.

A horrible rasping sound echoed through the hall. Bauglir laughed. Orchalon only recognized it as a laugh because of the smile, the sound that carried thought the hall was harsh and reminded him of falling rock and scrapping metal. It made him shiver. Then Bauglir said something in his own language and the other one replied. Bellow the jewels, Bauglir´s eyes had a strange glint and intent that Orchalon didn’t like at all.


	9. A quiet moment for poor Glorfindel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Glorfindel is being a slightly annoyed babysitter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is just tooth-rotting stuff...

Elrohir was trying to climb on him, grabbing his clothes in handfuls while Elladan was leading an assault from the top of the table.

“Oh, you two are worse that the balrog!” he swore, the words escaping before he could even think. It always went like this. The children were hungry for any stories from the First Age, especially about Gondolin when they had a survivor (well, sort of) of that last battle in Imladris.

“Yay! Tell us about the balrog, Glorfindel!” they shrieked in unison and became even more hyperactive, Elrohir bouncing up and down while still trying to climb.

“The fight with the balrog! Pleeeeeease!!” their squeals cut his ears like Noldorin glass daggers.

“Alright! Alright, but you have to be quiet,” Glorfindel said in his best an attempt to defuse them and save himself.

“How he grabbed your hair!” Elladan screamed even louder and illustrated the idea by pulling on his ponytail. One time, Glorfindel fumed silently. One time he had let his hair down – it was a freaking festival! – and he would never hear the end of it, not even after his death.

“Alright I will tell you all about that, but please calm down a little bit, boys!” he shouted and managed to get his hair free and hoped they would quiet down and he would not have another headache like yesterday.


	10. The famous fight (featuring not Glorfindel and not the balrog)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Elladan and Elrohir are roleplaying Glorfindel and the balrog.

She was almost at the entrance gate of the garden when she heard the sounds of a battle. Clash of swords and shouting. Celebrían turned around the corner, the stone gate and poison ivy coming into view, and then she was able to see them clearly. The balrog in all its fury, towering over Glorfindel, who was swinging his sword at him defiantly, trying to take him down. She watched for a few moments in delight, leaning against the gate.

Elrohir spotted her first.

“Mom, look! I am a balrog!” he shouted and roared, doing his best impression of the fiery beast. Apparently, these days, a balrog looked like a ten year old child covered in dirt and mud. He still lacked when it came to fire, we would have to talk about that later, she mused. Not that Celebrían would like to set her youngest son of fire, but a balrog needed the flames, so they would have to figure out a way how to make it happen.

Elladan peeked from under the golden scarf he had tied around his head to resemble Glorfindel, who was luckily not present to witness the drama. Celebrían would have to re-tell him later, or better still, invite him to watch the twins roleplay the fight again.

“I was just winning!” Elladan exclaimed and pouted.

“No, you were not!” came an answer from his brother.

“I was too!” Elladan replied and lifted his wooden sword again.

“Come on boys, enough for now, it is time for dinner. Are you not hungry, yet?” she asked, knowing the bare mention of food would put a short stop to anything they were doing.

“I´m sooo hungry I could eat a whole balrog!” Elrohir whined and jumped down from the bench, the pretend cliff he had been standing on. Celebrían smiled and ruffled his hair, or tried as it was caked with mud. She took each of her sons by the hand and they headed to the dining hall. And to maybe accidentally run into Glorfindel as well.


	11. The end of rest, things are about to change

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The rest of the Noldor are arriving, Curufinwë finds out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OCs:  
> Alastion (meaning?) – a scout, with the Fëanorians, a Noldo

Curufinwë closed his eyes blissfully. He should take better care of himself, he thought, making it nearly a promise, as the spoon sank back into the bowl of porridge. Going for half a day without a meal was not smart, but in all honesty, he was not at fault. The work has completely engulfed him once again. He was a servant to his thirst for knowledge and creating, and besides, it was his duty to make their weapons.

Few hours after lunch and there was almost nobody in the main hall of their house. He cherished the quiet, as much as his food, and wondered where Macalaurë was at this moment. Curufinwë nodded to himself. After all the struggle Macalaurë has grown into the role of a leader rather well. He still didn’t listen to his advice as much as Curufinwë would wish, but overall, their situation was sufficient. He reached for a piece of apple.

There were quick steps outside, but he barely registered them, only after they reached the hall and someone called his name.

“Lord Curufinwë! My lord!”

He turned around to find out what was the cause of the tumult and his eyes laid on Alastion, one of the scouts, haggard, alarmed and trying to catch his breath.

“Alastion, what is this? What do you want?” he asked, his eyebrows drawing low at the sudden intrusion, but then the most disconsolate idea hit him and Curufinwë nearly felt the blood draining from his face and his heart stopping. He had been with Tyelco. No, had something happened?

“Tyelcormo. Is it my brother? What´s happened!” he exclaimed. Alastion was still standing in the middle of the hall, bend forward with his hands braced against his legs, trying to breathe normally. Now he shook his head.

“No, my lord,” he managed to say, “it´s not like that… Lord Tyelcormo is quite alright. But…,“ he paused and frowned awkwardly, grimacing little in a rather odd way. He looked around the room, seeking an escape or help. Curufinwë did so as well. The handful of elves present were all watching the spectacle, some more in confusion, others in fear. There was no need for that, at least not now, he decided, he had no use for panic spreading among their people.

Curufinwë abandoned his lunch and stood up from his chair.

“So I can see there is no need for alarm,” he said loudly, “if Tyelcormo is in no danger. Come, you can tell me whatever it is on my way to the forge.” Alastion nodded and seemed a bit calmer. Curufinwë put a hand on his shoulder and steered him the right way, out of the door and then through the entrance hall outside.

The air was still warm and the Sun hung relatively high on the horizon, not even thinking of setting for some time. Curufinwë nudged his head in the direction of the path that lead right, but before he could ask anything, the scout interrupted him.

“My lord, but I really have to tell you now,” he said, his voice imploring.

“Go on.”

“It is that… lord Tyelcormo, we were… he sent me here, because we saw… I mean… it´s Nolofinwë!”

Curufinwë stopped suddenly, his boots scrapping on the dusty path, and he regarded the man with confusion and suspicion. What? What did that mean? Was he completely empty of senses? But the man´s face reflected despair more than any other emotion.

“What are you talking about?” he asked, his eyes narrowing.

“He´s here,” Alastion answered, breathless, “his people too. We saw them. Heading south, heading here. They must have come from the north, but I don’t know from where and how.”

Now all the blood truly drained from Curufinwë´s face and his heart bolted and started to beat wildly in his chest. No. _No_. Simply, no. That was impossible. Nolofinwë here? _How_? Oh, Eru… had they build their own ships after they had left them in Araman? After they had left them… Oh, Eru… if what he was being told was true, they will soon be confronted with a disaster… He began to feel sick and realised he has been absently biting on his lip and so he closed his eyes instead, an attempt to calm down.

“Are you sure it was them?” he asked finally, slowly, when he opened his eyes again to find Alastion waiting patiently.

“Yes, my lord,” he replied quietly, “they were no Sindar and we saw the banners clearly. I don’t know where they came from… Lord Tyelcormo told me to go straight to you.”

“That was well,” Curufinwë said, “you have to show me exactly where you had spotted them. I´ll send someone for a map, now let us go on.” He motioned for him to follow and they resumed the walk.


	12. The gamble

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nolofinwë tries to decide whether to go north.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Moringotto (q.) = the Quenya name for Morgoth  
> Ungoliantë (q.) = the Quenya name for Ungoliant

They had said the Helcaraxë couldn’t be crossed.

The Valar had told them many things.

“The Helcaraxë is impassable.”

“Moringotto has repented and has changed for the better.”

“There is no death in Valinor.”

“There will always be joy and light here.”

“You will be safe.”

But Moringotto has not changed and was a rotten creature through and through. And father had been murdered and they were far from home and safety. And the light had vanished...

And perhaps, he had to hope, the path north was possible after all. They said Moringotto and Ungoliantë had gone there after they had fled the scene of their hideous crime. But then again, even if that was true, they were still mere Elves and what the two other beings had survived could easily kill them. If you think it is cold here, just wait until you get there... Nolofinwë heard a voice a warning whisper in his mind.

They would lose many people. Some of those present in the camps right now would not be there when they emerged on the other side of the sea. The ice was deadly and their resources would become even scarcer with every day spent in the desolate north. In comparison Araman would look bountiful. There would be nothing there for them to eat, no animals to hunt, no plants to gather. He only hoped they would get a chance to fish. Fëanáro had started to ration the food resources once they had begun marching from Tirion, and whatever Nolofinwë might oppose when it came to his brother, he would never say he wasn’t a smart man. With a bit of luck, they might make it. With a bit of luck? When had they ever had luck since the departure? Or since even before that? The luck had run out with the light from the Trees and the blood from his father´s body. With some luck, it would not take them long years to cross the Helcaraxë. With some luck, they would not all starve, freeze or drown.

And his people were eager to follow, and they would if he gave the command. So many were following him. Thousands. Eru, he hoped he was choosing right.


	13. What path will we take?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nolofinwë and Turucáno have a decision to make in Araman.

“Have you decided already? You really want to do it? Go north?” Turucáno asked and his voice couldn´t hide the fear that has been rising in him since he had looked to the northern horizon several weeks ago. It had been bleak and barren.

“As yet…,” Nolofinwë said quietly and pulled his cloak tighter around himself. But when Turucáno didn’t move his eyes from him, he did so first and focused on the mountains in the distance.

“No, I have not decided yet,” he finally concluded.

“You cannot be serious,” Turucáno told him, his voice urgent, “it has never been done before, nobody has even attempted to journey that far north. And the Valar always said it cannot be done.” He was imploring, his eyes still filled with horror at the thought of what might await them there.

“We have children with us, small children and infants,” he went on, “they would never make it alive, father. Even people who are of age may not be strong enough-“

“Turucáno,” his father interrupted him and directed his focus to him. Turucáno fell silent, holding his breath.

“I know,” he said and then put a hand on Turucáno´s shoulder, “I do not force you to come with me, nor do I force anyone else. They are all free to turn back.”

“I won´t,” Turucáno said quietly, his heart heavy, and paused for a moment, “whatever you decide I will follow you, even there.” He nodded in the direction he so feared we would have to eventually take. He still didn´t dare to think about what Elenwë and Itarillë would decide to do.

“But please think about it,” he spoke, “nothing forces us north to the ice. We could build ships. There are woods around here and someone surely knows how to do it. It could be done. So what if it takes more time?”

“By this time, they are already on the other shore making plans,” Nolofinwë replied and his gaze grew harder once again.

“I do not like it any more than you do!” Turucáno suddenly lashed out, “what they did to us! Deserting us in the night with our things and with everything! Do you think this is a race, some kind of game?!”

There was no immediate answer, only silence. His father contemplated what he has said for a while. But Turucáno already knew he has accused him wrongly, he hasn’t meant what he has said. His father wasn’t foolish.

“No, it is not my intention to race my brother to the other shore. But I made my promise, you know that,” he spoke eventually, his tone calm, but firm, “to pursue the enemy and to follow my brother. I want to continue on this journey and many others want that as well. I do not wish to linger here and in Aman in general, now that we have decided to leave. Even if I wanted to go back, I would not, not now, it is too late for that option. We cannot stay here after what happened in Alqualondë and after what we saw by the sea.” His father gave me a look that was pleading while also asking for forgiveness. It was hard to meet his eyes now.

“Just think about it? Please? I trust you will make a wise decision,” Turucáno said lamely and thought he should go back to his family and leave his father, the king, to make his decisions.


	14. Deep in thought (featuring dark, ice and wind)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Findecáno and Nolofinwë during the crossing of the Helcaraxë.

He noticed a dark figure standing there in the distance, beyond the borders that you could vaguely make tracing all the tents in their camp. People should not stray and they should never go anywhere alone and not this far, the orders had been strict and very clear. A flash of anger rose in him and also a distinct trace of fear. Findecáno started marching resolutely towards the person, before he immediately remembered to be cautious and so he approached on light feet, assessing the ground before taking another step.

He stopped and sighed deeply, closing his eyes for a moment, as he recognized the man standing there. He stood there wrapped up in his cloak, the hood falling low into his face, and didn’t even acknowledge Findecáno´s presence when he got near and stopped right next to him. Findecáno waited for him to speak, but he did not and all Findecáno could hear was the incessant wheezing of the cold wind.

“What are you thinking about?” he finally breached the lingering atmosphere.

He didn’t answer and after a long period of expecting something, any change at all, Findecáno sighed and decided to go back and leave his father in peace.

“If the circumstances were different one could almost say that this place was beautiful,” Nolofinwë said suddenly.

Findecáno turned to him at once and his father´s eyes slowly found his own. He looked thoughtful, perhaps lost in some idea or a place far away from here. Lost in thought, and resolute, trying to keep his emotions beneath the surface. Findecáno has not seen much more since they had entered the real north. Sad, angry, even hopeful sometimes, but now, he just looked thoughtful, like he was back in his office in Tirion, contemplating some abstract idea or devising a new policy.

“But it´s not beautiful,” Findecáno´s voice was solemn as he studied the greyish blue and harsh surroundings, the icebergs, and the darkness all around, “not really. You can´t look at it like that.” He crossed his arms over my chest. The thought made him repel from it. It was disturbing and absurd, there was no real beauty in this cold icy hell.

Nolofinwë gave the slightest of nods and resumed staring into the dark.

“Do you regret coming this way?” Findecáno couldn’t help but ask. The question has been present in his mind often these days, and he has heard it from a lot of people as well.

“No,” he slowly answered after a while and then fell back into silence, “do you think that makes me a bad person, Findecáno?”

“I don’t think so, father,” he replied. If they wanted to go on, they had to suffer through this, and they _had_ to go on. There was not much he could talk to his father about right now. He sighed again and then he started his way back to the camp. At the last moment he turned and called out to him.

“Do not stay here for long!”

His father didn´t reply and Findecáno pulled his hood lower, dipped his head down against the wind and left.


End file.
